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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191701">heartburn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/volacious/pseuds/volacious'>volacious</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Beta Read, POV Sakusa Kiyoomi, Post-Time Skip, Sakusa Kiyoomi-centric, Sexual Content, This is why communication is important, i just wanted to make sakusa suffer, turns out they were just idiots, unrequited love is now resolved!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:01:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,784</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/volacious/pseuds/volacious</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>The first thing Atsumu had said to him the morning after was, “This doesn’t change anything.”</p>
</blockquote>In which Kiyoomi tries to get over Miya Atsumu, fails, and somehow still manages to come out of the entire thing with a new boyfriend (Atsumu) anyway.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu &amp; Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>578</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 1.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>sakusa kiyoomi calling himself stupid and regretting processing and coming to terms with his feelings for one (1) miya atsumu - the fic</p><p>warning: spoilers for sakuatsu's future careers if you didn't already know</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>The first thing Atsumu had said to him the morning after was, “This doesn’t change anything.”</p><p>They were in a hotel room—Kiyoomi’s, to be exact. Last night, after the team dinner and months of unresolved sexual tension, they’d finally ended up in Kiyoomi’s room through a heated make-out session in the elevator, and the rest had just happened, almost naturally.</p><p>Kiyoomi had woken up first the next morning and spent 5 minutes admiring the way the sunlight filtered through the translucent curtains and splayed across Atsumu’s hair, colouring it a shade of rich golden ichor. He had smiled when he shook his head fondly and got out of bed to use the shower.</p><p>In the shower, he had allowed himself to continue last night’s dream which, in hindsight, had been a terrible idea. He’d been caught up in the moment. Foolish. He’d thought Atsumu might return his feelings and that the two of them could— </p><p>Well. There was no point continuing that train of thought. It was almost embarrassing now to think back on it. How delusional Kiyoomi must have been. How could he have anticipated anything in return from Atsumu when he hadn’t ever explicitly said anything that could have hinted that Kiyoomi’s feelings were not completely one-sided?</p><p>Sure, Atsumu called him cute nicknames based off of some variation of ‘Omi’ which Kiyoomi had grown to like after initially hating it because he didn’t know how to respond to being called a <em> nickname </em> for the first time in his life or what it meant that his unfairly attractive teammate was the one calling him that. </p><p>And yes, Atsumu was always the one making sure Kiyoomi wasn’t left out of team activities. No matter how much Kiyoomi resented him for it in the moment, he always ended up cherishing it once he was alone again, polishing the memory with a soft cloth before storing it for safekeeping.</p><p>Atsumu was also the one who pushed him to step out of his comfort zone more, but he also respected Kiyoomi’s boundaries and wouldn’t forcefully shove him out if Kiyoomi really didn’t want to. He had made Kiyoomi want to become <em> better</em>—whatever <em> better </em> meant. </p><p>Even if Atsumu had never said it out loud, Kiyoomi had assumed that Atsumu liked him back purely because of how Atsumu had always treated him and made him feel—like the way clean linen sheets fresh out of the dryer felt wrapped around you.</p><p>He should have known better. Never assume. It was a lesson Kiyoomi should have learned by now.</p><p>Yet in the end, when Kiyoomi had finally stepped out of the shower, he had been fully convinced, like the fool he was, that his feelings were reciprocated by Atsumu.</p><p>(<em>Not to worry</em>, the universe had said watching this play out, laughing cruelly. <em> He'll be hit with the cold, harsh truth soon enough.</em>)</p><p>Atsumu had woken up while Kiyoomi was in the shower, but he hadn’t gotten dressed. He was sitting up on the bed, the sheets pooling at the base of his abdomen, leaving his bare torso in the open. Kiyoomi could see the various hickeys on Atsumu’s neck and torso and he almost blushed at the thought that he had matching ones on his body.</p><p>There was a grim sort of look in Atsumu’s eyes, though. Kiyoomi thought it didn’t match the beautiful weather at all. Even so, he had been ready to tell Atsumu what he had been reciting over and over, mumbling to himself under his breath in the shower, as if fearing Atsumu might somehow hear it over the echoing sound of the water running.</p><p>He had taken a deep breath. Inhaled. He could do this, he cheered himself on.</p><p>Then, before Kiyoomi could say anything, Atsumu had said, “This doesn’t change anything.”</p><p>Instantaneously, like a skydiver jumping out of a plane without a parachute, Kiyoomi’s heart plummeted to the depths of his stomach. He fought to keep his expression impassive. Distantly, he wondered if the fire alarm had gone off before realising that the ringing in his ears wasn't from that. The back of his mind, busy as ever, had already started on a tirade about how fucking idiotic he was, how could he have ever thought that Atsumu, of all people, would ever feel the same way about <em>him</em>? Why would Miya Atsumu ever want someone like <em> Kiyoomi</em>?</p><p>There was silence for a while. Atsumu didn't say anything more. Uncharacteristic. Kiyoomi hated it but he felt that if he were to open his mouth and try to speak right now, his knees might give out and he'd collapse onto the dirty, <em> dirty </em>carpeted floor and that would just make this day even worse.</p><p>So Kiyoomi waited until he was sure his voice wouldn’t quaver at all before replying, “Of course.”</p><p>He held Atsumu’s gaze steadily and wondered if Atsumu could see the heartbreak through his eyes.</p><p>Probably not. Kiyoomi has always excelled at keeping a poker face. Motoya called it emotional constipation, but look where processing his feelings had gotten him.</p><p>Rejection.</p><p>Atsumu was the first to look away, moving the sheets off his body and stepping out of the queen-sized bed. </p><p>"Okay," he said as a response, more of a filler than anything—the presence of which was about as unpleasant as having a cavity filled—and that had been the extent of their conversation, if you could even call it that. Nothing else was said when Kiyoomi moved to clothe himself, and nothing else was said when Atsumu took care to not brush against him as he passed by Kiyoomi to use the shower. </p><p>The door to the bathroom closed. A few seconds later, the shower started running. Kiyoomi decided against the outfit he'd picked out mentally earlier while he had still been in the shower and opted for something more casual.</p><p>It wasn't like he was dressing to impress anyway. And besides, the shirt he'd planned on wearing earlier was scratchy and irritating on his skin. He'd only bought it in the first place because Motoya had insisted he looked good in it and didn't Kiyoomi want to look good for Atsumu?</p><p>Stupid, stupid, stupid. He shouldn't have bought the shirt or even brought it along. All it did was take up space in his luggage. It was a good thing Kiyoomi still had the receipt; maybe he could return it once they got back to Osaka.</p><p>Kiyoomi had planned on going to that popular brunch spot near their hotel after his shower but he found that he no longer felt like squeezing into a small shop lot crowded with people and germs. He didn't really feel like going out at all. Maybe he should just order room service and stay in. Forgo the team-bonding sightseeing activity planned for later today. The others would understand. They always did.</p><p>The weather didn’t seem that good today, anyway. It might rain while they were out and then Kiyoomi would get wet and Kiyoomi <em>hated </em>getting wet from the rain. It made his clothes cling to his skin—drenched in disgusting sewage water—and he'd drip the water everywhere once he got back to his room, and then he'd have to call reception to borrow cleaning tools which he'd then have to <em>sanitise </em>before using, and then once he was done cleaning he'd hop into the shower to fully cleanse himself of the dirt and grime, only to find that no amount of hot water could ward off the chill the rain had brought with it when it had seeped through Kiyoomi's clothes and into his bones.</p><p>So Kiyoomi put on his casualwear and ordered room service. When Atsumu had finished showering and came back out, Kiyoomi spoke up from where he was sitting on the bed, "I won't be joining you for the sightseeing team activity later today."</p><p>Normally, Atsumu would have asked why and badgered him to join. Kiyoomi might have been expecting it—maybe even looking forward to it.</p><p>Instead, Atsumu simply nodded and replied, "I'll let them know."</p><p>Kiyoomi recalled the words Atsumu had said earlier that morning. <em> This doesn't change anything</em>. He forced down the acerbic bile at the back of his throat.</p><p><em> Liar</em>, Kiyoomi thought. He watched Atsumu dress himself then collect his belongings before standing back up and facing Kiyoomi.</p><p>"See you later," Atsumu said before realising Kiyoomi wouldn't be joining them. "Or, well, whenever I see you next. Tomorrow?"</p><p>Kiyoomi gauged Atsumu's expression. He must be a lot more flustered than he showed, because tomorrow was the day they would be flying back to Osaka. On the same flight. With adjacent seat numbers. They would definitely be seeing each other again tomorrow.</p><p>Maybe it was a good thing that Kiyoomi hadn't gotten to confess his feelings for Atsumu. Atsumu was already acting so uncharacteristically like himself just from what happened last night; how would things be if Kiyoomi had bared his heart to Atsumu in an unneeded, unwanted show of vulnerability only to be rejected?</p><p>They still had 3 years on their contracts. The universe had saved Kiyoomi from both a show of embarrassment he'd never be able to recover from and 3 years of awkwardness. </p><p>(What the universe hadn’t spared him from was a broken heart. On that front, the universe had rubbed its hands together gleefully and sat down to watch it happen with a bucket of popcorn in hand.)</p><p>"Tomorrow," Kiyoomi confirmed, nodding his head once.</p><p>Atsumu attempted a smile at him but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Kiyoomi wished he hadn't tried at all.</p><p>When Atsumu finally left to return to his own room, Kiyoomi's shoulders sagged but he refused to let his defences come crashing down.</p><p>He refused to shed even a single tear for something of his own making, that had resulted from Kiyoomi's delusions and nothing more. </p><p>It was stupid. Emotions were stupid. Feelings were stupid. Kiyoomi should have just ignored Motoya like he always did. It would certainly have saved him from having to return a shirt he'd never worn and from the unpleasant, ever-present ache in his heart.</p><p><em> Are you fucking crazy</em>, he lashed out at his heart angrily. <em> Why are you aching for something that was never yours? </em></p><p>His heart didn't answer. Of course, it didn't—it wasn't capable of providing an answer. Kiyoomi was probably going crazy himself if he was expecting an answer from an <em>organ, </em>of all things. </p><p>A knock came at his door. His heart leapt in his chest. The split second before he opened the door, Kiyoomi wondered if it was Atsumu.</p><p>Then, the door swung open. </p><p>It wasn't Atsumu—it was the room service he'd ordered earlier.</p><p>Kiyoomi had never wanted to carve his heart right out of his chest more than he did in that instant. </p><p>He thanked the hotel staff as they handed him the food he'd ordered. Once the door had swung close and Kiyoomi had set the plate and cutlery down on the table, he rushed to wash his hands in the bathroom.</p><p>He cleaned the cutlery and sat down to eat but found that he wasn't hungry at all. Still, Kiyoomi forced himself to start eating the pasta he'd thought sounded pretty good when he had been reading the menu. It hadn't been cheap and Kiyoomi didn't want to have to find a source of food later on again, so he ate.</p><p>While he stabbed at his pasta, his mind decided it would be a good time to think about Atsumu once again. Kiyoomi wanted nothing more than to bleach his brain clean of Miya Atsumu, but he found that even that wish came off a bit too weak to be substantial.</p><p>Kiyoomi liked Atsumu. He liked him a great deal. He liked him an <em>abnormal </em>amount. Feelings like these didn't just disappear because the other didn't feel the same way. It was unfortunate but no one had found the cure to this godforsaken disease yet. Maybe when they did, it would involve removing every single memory related to that person. </p><p>If Kiyoomi had to give up every memory he had of Atsumu to stop feeling like <em> this</em>, would he?</p><p>He hated that he couldn't answer that question decisively. He hated that the first answer he thought of wasn't a hard yes. He hated, hated, <em>hated </em>it. It was just a made-up scenario (much like all those assumptions Kiyoomi had made up of Atsumu liking him back) but Kiyoomi couldn't even say that yes, he would delete every memory of Atsumu if it meant the gnawing ache in his chest would go away.</p><p>It just served to prove how hard and deep Kiyoomi had fallen for Miya Atsumu.</p><p>Kiyoomi finished off his pasta and placed the plate and cutlery outside his room for collection. Then, he washed his hands. Brushed his teeth thoroughly. Cleaned the table he'd eaten on. Washed his hands again.</p><p>By the end of it, his hands were a little dry and he found himself recalling the little tube of moisturising lotion Atsumu had given to him as a gift. <em> For your hands, Omi-kun</em>, Atsumu had said when he pressed the tube into Kiyoomi's hands. Kiyoomi had been so touched in the moment he'd forgotten to thank Atsumu.</p><p>That had been months ago. Kiyoomi had treasured the little tube, using as little of it as possible whenever he needed to. In the end, he had even searched up the brand of the lotion on the internet and purchased a few extra tubes to be used in place of the one Atsumu had given him.</p><p>Thinking back to that made Kiyoomi want to die from embarrassment. He'd gone to such lengths—for what? To avoid finishing off a gift his crush had given him? What was wrong with him?</p><p>Kiyoomi marched over to his suitcase and unzipped his bag of skincare products. Taking out the lotion Atsumu had given him (Kiyoomi knew because he'd put a fox sticker on it), he angrily squeezed out a generous amount onto his hand. </p><p>He screwed the cap back on, then began to apply the lotion all over his hands and fingers. He'd squeezed out more than enough for his hands, so he applied the extra lotion to his wrists and forearms too. The scent of peach, sweet and fruity, invaded Kiyoomi's senses.</p><p>That's right. Atsumu had also said, <em> I got you the peach-scented one cuz I thought you'd like it! </em> </p><p>Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. Kiyoomi shook his head violently, as if that would rid his mind of Atsumu, then threw himself onto the bed and resisted the urge to scream into a pillow. He settled for viciously strangling one instead, venting out all his frustration on the poor thing.</p><p>When he'd finally worn himself out decimating the pillow, Kiyoomi leaned back on the rest of the pillows and looked outside the window. Dimly, he realised that it was raining.</p><p><em> Looks like I was right</em>, Kiyoomi thought, watching the rivulets running down the glass windows blankly. He couldn't exactly muster up any other emotion at the moment—not when he'd just finished taking out his rage on a pillow.</p><p>His mind—which should be branded as a traitor at this point—wandered to Atsumu yet again. What was he doing now? Had he eaten? Had he gone out with the rest of the team already? Was he caught in the rain and soaking wet? Had he brought an umbrella with him? These were all annoying thoughts that buzzed around Kiyoomi's head like pesky mosquitoes, only they couldn't be zapped dead with an electric bug swatter. </p><p>If Atsumu showed up outside his door, dripping wet, would Kiyoomi let him in?</p><p>That was a dumb question. Pointless, even. Kiyoomi might ask why Atsumu came to his room when he could go back to his own room, and he might complain that Atsumu was dripping dirty water <em>everywhere </em>and that he would have to clean it up but— </p><p>There was no doubt that Kiyoomi would let Atsumu in without any hesitation.</p><p>But Kiyoomi knew that this wasn't a scenario that would ever happen. Not when Atsumu had said, "This doesn't change anything."</p><p>Because Atsumu wouldn't have come to him after being rained on even before last night. There was no reason he would do so now, even if Kiyoomi found himself wishing it would happen. Maybe if he did, Kiyoomi would have an excuse to take care of Atsumu for once—a repayment of sorts, for all the times Atsumu had taken care of Kiyoomi.</p><p>But he wouldn’t, so there was really no point in thinking about it.</p><p>Thinking of Atsumu made something in his chest burn. It was probably acid. Kiyoomi hoped it was acid—at least <em>that </em>could be solved with a prescription for omeprazole tablets from the doctor. One 20mg tablet once a day, swallowed whole. Kiyoomi had taken it before for reflux and it’d worked like a charm.</p><p>Maybe it would be useful in this case as well. At the very least, the burning sensation in his chest would subside and the bitter taste at the back of his throat would dissipate. Probably.</p><p>Kiyoomi noted it down mentally. Visit the doctor. Ask for omeprazole. Pray that it’ll work, because if it doesn’t, Kiyoomi is going to have to learn how to fall out of love with Miya Atsumu instead. </p><p>And Kiyoomi wasn’t sure he’d be able to do that, or that he even wanted to. </p><p>For now, Kiyoomi decided he would continue watching the rain droplets race down the glass windows while suppressing his emotions and pretending they didn’t exist. </p><p>And if Kiyoomi’s mind wandered to Atsumu once again, well— </p><p>He was allowed one day, at the very least. One day to wallow in self-pity. One day to cradle the pieces of his heart to his chest and wonder how he was going to put it back together, <em> if </em>there was even any point in putting it back together. </p><p>One day to indulge himself in his memories before he would inevitably have to lock them into a box and throw away the key.</p><p>Come tomorrow, Kiyoomi would simply don the mask he always wore and board the plane where he would sit next to Atsumu and pretend that nothing had happened between them.</p><p>For now, Kiyoomi would mourn the loss of a relationship that never was.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>1. firstly pls do not emulate kiyoomi's plan to go to the doctor for omeprazole in an attempt to resolve heartbreak symptoms... it will not work (this is not from personal experience dw)</p><p>2. it's mentioned kiyoomi had been planning to go to brunch after the shower - yeah, he'd been planning to go with atsumu bc he heard atsumu talking about it. but then the whole thing happened so...</p><p>3. it's 1 a.m. where i live and i wrote the entirety of this in one day so pls be kind. this is a mashup of several different writing styles i'm trying out so it's def not perfect! still, kudos and comments are always appreciated and i will try to reply to all of them.</p><p>4. did i make you sad? cry? did you have a particular part you liked a lot? feel free to share it with me in the comments ♡ (and if you think you'd like more of this universe or if you'd rather i leave it as it is?)</p><p>thanks for reading! have a good day/night wherever you are :)</p><p>- l ♡</p><p>
  <b>if you wish for the angst and unrequited love to be unresolved, you can stop at chapter 1</b>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 2.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>nothing is resolved but here's 2.5k more of sakusuffer</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In high school, Kiyoomi learned that the heart was a muscle the size of your fist.</p><p>Theoretically, Kiyoomi knew that if he were to hold a human heart in his hands, two palms and ten fingers would be enough to cup it safely and keep it from spilling out. </p><p>Yet, Atsumu must be the exception to the rule. Surely, there were exceptions to every rule, right? Because Atsumu had so much love, poured so much love into everything and everyone he deemed worthy. Where else would he store all that love, if not in his heart?</p><p>Kiyoomi thought that if his heart was the size of a fist, then Atsumu’s must be the size of two fists, at the very least. He has a heart that’s more than twice the size of Kiyoomi’s, that’s too big for Kiyoomi to hold with just two palms and ten fingers. He’s tried—envisioned Atsumu’s heart in his palms a million times over. No matter how he tries to fit it, it always ends up spilling over his fingers.</p><p>Kiyoomi’s two palms and ten fingers just weren’t enough for Atsumu. And he’ll never be enough; no matter how he flexed his fingers and palms, no matter how much he wished he could— </p><p>He couldn’t give Atsumu the love he deserved.</p><p>It was a good thing that Atsumu didn’t have the same romantic feelings that Kiyoomi had towards him. This way, Kiyoomi wouldn’t hurt Atsumu inevitably when Atsumu gave too much and Kiyoomi gave too little. </p><p>This way, even if Kiyoomi ached and stung and burned all over, Atsumu wasn’t hurt.</p><p>He just— had to suck it up and move on.</p><p>And if he couldn’t do that, not just yet, he simply had to pretend.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Outwardly, Kiyoomi’s pity party lasted a grand total of 1 day.</p><p>The next day, when they were set to fly back to Osaka, Kiyoomi had already booked an appointment with his usual doctor for later that day, after his flight. By the time he slid into the seat next to Atsumu on the plane, his cold and prickly façade was back up and running, like it had never stopped working at all. </p><p>(It had faltered a little, when Atsumu had taken the initiative to help Kiyoomi disinfect the entire seat, armrests included, without Kiyoomi asking, but that had just been a slight malfunction. A tiny bug that went away after Kiyoomi had mumbled a simple “Thank you,” to Atsumu.)</p><p>Outwardly, Kiyoomi had already moved on from the events of two days ago. Maybe even erased them from his memory completely, had them discarded into some memory shredder in his hippocampus.</p><p>Inwardly, however, it was a different story altogether.</p><p>Kiyoomi wasn’t the slightest bit <em> over it </em> at all. He was trying his very best to not think of Atsumu, but that was downright impossible when Atsumu was literally sitting next to him, their thighs occasionally bumping into each other before either of them shifted away, their arms jostling against each other when there was a bit of turbulence. </p><p>Still, Kiyoomi tried.</p><p>And inevitably failed.</p><p>Atsumu had plugged in his earphones and seemed rather intent on <em> not </em> talking to Kiyoomi at all, so Kiyoomi hadn't tried to talk to him. This was fine, Kiyoomi tried to convince himself. Everything was fine. Except that Atsumu wasn't bothering him or chatting his ear off like he normally would. Kiyoomi should be overjoyed, really—didn't he always complain about how annoying it was?</p><p>It was funny, in an ironic sort of way. Atsumu had stopped talking to Kiyoomi, yet Kiyoomi’s mind was going haywire thinking of him anyway.</p><p>It was for the best. If Atsumu stopped talking to him, stopped being so <em> nice </em> and <em> considerate</em>, then maybe it would be easier for Kiyoomi to fall out of love with him.</p><p>So Kiyoomi plugged in his own set of earbuds to drown out his thoughts. And if the playlist he selected was one he’d made in a moment of weakness for a certain someone, well, that was for nobody to know except himself.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Baggage collection—one of Kiyoomi’s mortal enemies. It was repulsive enough to have to watch his luggage, just sanitized, disappear off onto the same belt that countless other suitcases, all of which were surely dirty and full of germs, had been transported on.</p><p>Now, he had to actually get close enough to a moving conveyor belt to pull his luggage off? Only God knew how many germs were <em> thriving </em> on that belt.</p><p>Kiyoomi spotted his luggage in the distance and sighed, as if mentally preparing himself for his inevitable next move.</p><p>Just as he was about to move forward, however, Atsumu had already gone up to the conveyor belt and hauled Kiyoomi’s luggage off of it.</p><p>Kiyoomi blinked, surprised. Atsumu tugged his luggage over to him and spared him an awkward smile, like this was his attempt to make peace. An attempt to have everything go back to normal.</p><p>“Your hand,” Kiyoomi blurted out before he could stop himself.</p><p>Atsumu turned back to look at him, confusion apparent on his face. Kiyoomi extended out his hand sanitiser bottle, thanking whatever divine being there was that the mask he was wearing covered up the blush starting to heat up his cheeks.</p><p>Atsumu’s expression turned into one of understanding, his lips forming an ‘o’ shape, and he reached out a hand for Kiyoomi to squeeze a generous amount of sanitiser onto. </p><p>“Thanks, Omi-kun.” Atsumu smiled at him as he spread the hand sanitiser all over his hands properly, the way Kiyoomi had taught him to.</p><p>Kiyoomi pretended his heart didn’t skip a beat and simply nodded as a reply.</p><p>And that was the extent of it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>After a mandatory consultation where Kiyoomi answered ‘yes’ to all the symptoms the doctor described which were indicative of reflux, the doctor wrote him a prescription for omeprazole 20 mg tablets, and Kiyoomi got it dispensed at the pharmacy next door.</p><p>Omeprazole 20 mg tablets, 1 tablet a day. Kiyoomi incorporated it into his daily routine seamlessly and waited for his heartburn to dissipate.</p><p>It didn’t.</p><p>Clearly, this type of heartburn wasn’t the type you could cure with medicine. Kiyoomi had been expecting the end result but felt a little disappointed anyway.</p><p>There was only one other option left, and he didn't like it.</p><p>Kiyoomi had to get over Miya Atsumu.</p><p>It wasn’t some sort of revelation or epiphany he had in the shower. He didn’t just happen upon the thought by chance when he had been looking for something else. Nothing about Kiyoomi was left up to chance.</p><p>It was just the logical thing to do, the last step of having an unrequited crush. Kiyoomi never left things unfinished, after all, and all the facts were present—Kiyoomi’s feelings for Atsumu were unreciprocated, said feelings were giving him heartburn symptoms and the omeprazole tablets weren’t working, and the awkward air between Kiyoomi and Atsumu had followed them all the way back to Osaka.</p><p>Kiyoomi had thought that their interactions on the flight and at the airport might have been an indication that things would go back to normal. </p><p>He was wrong.</p><p>2 weeks had passed since that night. They’d had 2 whole weeks to get over it—Kiyoomi had had 14 days to shove his feelings for Atsumu back into the deep crevices in his heart. He’d tried yelling, threatening, bribing—nothing seemed to work. His mind and heart worked of their own accord, and Kiyoomi was helpless to do anything but stand around and watch.</p><p>Still, Kiyoomi couldn’t give up. Because he finished everything he started. Since Atsumu didn’t like him back in a romantic way, Kiyoomi just had to suck it up, get over it, and move on.</p><p>Especially since the awkward tension between them was so palpable that Coach Foster had actually pulled Kiyoomi to the side to ask him what was going on between him and Atsumu. That had been downright mortifying. </p><p>Kiyoomi had simply promised the coach that he would resolve it with Miya (because that was still what Kiyoomi called Atsumu outside of his own thoughts, and likely what he would continue to call him for the rest of their future interactions). The coach had squared him up and told him to get it done soon, the silent implication to stop wasting precious practice time on it loud and clear.</p><p>And Kiyoomi did try his best to keep the promise he made. Because Kiyoomi was <em> not </em> going to let something as illogical and irrational and idiotic as <em> feelings </em> affect his professional volleyball career. </p><p>All his life, Kiyoomi had drawn neat lines around everything and everyone he came across, and he’d rebuffed and rebuked any attempt they made to get out of the box Kiyoomi had drawn them into. Now that he was a professional athlete, it was no different.</p><p>He <em> knew </em> where to draw the line between his personal life and work. He <em> knew </em> things just worked out better when you kept the two separate. He <em> knew </em>that.</p><p>Yet in the face of one Miya Atsumu, Kiyoomi found that the lines he’d drawn between them had, at some point, been washed away by the ocean. Which was odd, because Kiyoomi didn’t recall having drawn the line in sand in the first place—then again, nothing had ever really made sense when it came to Atsumu.  </p><p><em> Don’t mix personal and professional</em>. That had been one of Kiyoomi’s mantras he’d set for himself back when he had just graduated college and started his professional volleyball career. At the time, it had seemed like a no-brainer—something that just went without saying.</p><p>Now? It was simply another reminder of just how many walls he’d let Miya Atsumu bring down.</p><p>Atsumu had slowly entwined tiny little fragments and pieces of himself into Kiyoomi’s life, both with and without Kiyoomi’s knowledge. It was only now that Kiyoomi took a good look around that he realised just how much of Atsumu had seeped into his life.</p><p>It reminded him of that one time during his college days when he’d paid a surprise visit to Motoya’s apartment for Motoya’s birthday, only for him to nearly gag at the state the apartment had been in. Kiyoomi had never quite forgotten the look on Motoya’s face when he saw Kiyoomi standing outside his opened apartment door. </p><p>Motoya had explained later on, while nursing a cup of coffee, that it had started a few weeks ago when he’d gotten terribly busy with assignments and that things had just kept piling up until he didn’t even know where to start.</p><p>That was a perfect comparison to Kiyoomi’s life right now. It was so full of Atsumu everywhere that Kiyoomi just didn’t know where he should even begin to untangle Atsumu from himself. Where should he make the first incision, the first cut, to remove Atsumu from his life?</p><p>Well, in a way, Kiyoomi had already made the first cut. He’d made it the very same day Atsumu had told him, “This doesn’t change anything,” and did the equivalent of pouring a bucket of ice-cold water over Kiyoomi before leaving him alone, shivering, to pick up the pieces of a foolish dream he should never have had.</p><p>The peach-scented lotion Atsumu had given to him months ago—Kiyoomi had squeezed the last of it out to use just last night. He’d only felt a little regret in him as he’d stared at the empty tube, which was <em> progress </em> as compared to how he might have reacted a month or two ago. </p><p>(He hadn’t been able to bring himself to throw the empty tube into the trash, but that was another obstacle for another day.)</p><p>At any rate, this was a little consolation to himself. He’d done something he wouldn’t have been able to do a month back. With enough time, wouldn’t he be able to get over Miya Atsumu?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi and Atsumu did not end up talking about the Incident, but they both got better and better at braving the awkward tension sitting between them like the only child of two newly divorced parents.</p><p>So, technically, Kiyoomi did keep his promise to Coach Foster. He’d resolved things, even if he hadn’t done any sort of talking or hashing out to do it.</p><p>Atsumu still called him ‘Omi-kun’ but he no longer pushed Kiyoomi’s boundaries to see how much leeway he could get. And Kiyoomi called Atsumu as ‘Miya’ and pretended his heart didn’t throb or ache every time he saw Atsumu initiate physical contact with someone else, pretended he didn’t wish that were him.</p><p>It was getting increasingly harder to retain hope for getting over Miya Atsumu when Kiyoomi still craved attention and affection from him.</p><p>Things slowly returned to normal, except the painful reminder that Atsumu’s bright smile and “Nice kill, Omi-omi!” didn’t mean what Kiyoomi wanted it to mean was ever-present, always there to slam the cold harsh truth in Kiyoomi’s face when Kiyoomi’s heart dared to <em> want</em>.</p><p>A month passed by, then two. Kiyoomi waited for his feelings for Atsumu to subside, but they never did. </p><p>Rather, every time they won a game, Kiyoomi would always turn to look at Atsumu first, watch the way Atsumu’s face burst into the brightest happiness he’d ever seen. And he’d feel his heart start beating even faster, even as it <em> hurt</em>, and Kiyoomi realised.</p><p>That Atsumu had so much love he was practically bursting with it. That Atsumu poured most of it into volleyball, but some of that love would inevitably trickle into every interaction he had.</p><p>Kiyoomi had let Atsumu bleed love into his life, and he’d thought himself special for it when, really, Atsumu bled love into the life of everyone he interacted with. His fans, his friends, his family. Kiyoomi wasn’t anyone special and he’d deluded himself into thinking he was.</p><p>And now? He was left trying to scrub the stains out with dishwashing liquid and a sponge because that was all he had and the store was out of bleach. And he’d tried, he’d scrubbed for a good two months or more, but he still wasn’t any closer to getting the stains out now than he was at the beginning.</p><p>How pathetic. How desperate. That he was still in love with someone who would never feel the same way about him.</p><p>That when Atsumu shot him a grin and held his hand up for a high-five after winning a match, Kiyoomi couldn’t bring himself to deny him of it.</p><p>That Kiyoomi smiled, even, as he smacked his palm against Atsumu’s.</p><p>That Kiyoomi didn’t even think about the sweat or germs clinging to Atsumu’s hands, because he had been too preoccupied with his racing heart.</p><p>How pitiful. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi liked to think that with time, he would have gotten over Miya Atsumu, eventually. </p><p>Maybe not in a month’s time, or even a year’s time. Maybe it would have taken him the 3 years remaining on their contracts to fully get over Atsumu.</p><p>Kiyoomi liked to think that there would have come a day when he wouldn’t be so hung up on everything Atsumu did or said, when he wouldn’t become inexplicably jealous of the sight of Atsumu hanging his arm around someone else’s shoulders. </p><p>If things had continued on like this, everything kept to a friendly bare minimum, maybe that day hadn’t been that far off at all.</p><p>It was just too bad, then, that Kiyoomi found himself tumbling into bed with Atsumu a second time, against his better judgement.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>haha sorry for the cliffhanger and also that it's been over a month since i first posted this,,, i know it's short but this particular part of the story rlly gave me a lot of trouble when i was writing it?? i'm still a bit meh about it but it's not as bad as the previous drafts so... lmk what you guys think of it!</p><p>omi's not-really-unrequited-love will be resolved soon (?) so stay tuned and pls leave encouragement in the form of kudos and comments! they rlly do wonders for my motivation (and ofc i'll try to reply to all!)</p><p>if you've previously left a kudos already and wish to show support, feel free to let me know which part of this chapter you liked particularly! or what you're looking forward to in the next chap (lbr we all just want skts to talk it out,,,)</p><p>thanks for reading! see u next chapter :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 3.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They talk about it, this time.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING: Please mind the rating tag change from T to M!! There's some sexual content ahead (they don't get very far before I cut them off though)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It all started with a new endorsement deal that Kiyoomi received for a sports shoe brand. He’d already signed on with them; now he just had to film a commercial and take some promotional photos.</p><p>In retrospect, there were two things that should have sent some sort of alarm bells ringing in Kiyoomi’s head.</p><p>The first thing was that Kiyoomi wasn't the only one from MSBY to sign on with the brand; Atsumu, Hinata and Bokuto were all signed, too. Extra emphasis on Atsumu, because that was where all of Kiyoomi’s heart troubles started.</p><p>The second thing was that they had been asked to travel to Tokyo for the commercial filming and photo taking because, apparently, they would be doing some sort of collaboration with some players from Schweiden Adlers.</p><p>The brand spokesperson had been apologetic when she'd informed them about the need to travel, but since they were covering travel costs and hotel stay, Kiyoomi didn't have much to complain about on that end.</p><p>He was even kind of looking forward to the whole thing, if he was being honest. It had been a while since he'd last spoken to Wakatoshi.</p><p>Their travel arrangements had been made so they would arrive the evening before filming was to begin, and they even each had their own individual hotel rooms to stay in. </p><p>Kiyoomi tried valiantly to <em> not </em> listen in on which room Atsumu was going to be staying in but failed anyway—Atsumu's room was right next to his, and he felt his heart skip a beat at that like the traitor it was. What a fool; it wasn’t like they had one of those connected hotel rooms, anyway. And even if they did, the both of them would keep the door on their end shut and locked, as they should.</p><p>This hotel stay was reminiscent of a certain night from months ago, which had ended with Kiyoomi and Atsumu fucking and fucking up the careful friendship they’d built. But Kiyoomi wasn’t going to let himself dwell on that. Not when he had been doing so good lately.</p><p>Besides, nothing was going to happen between him and Atsumu. Not this time, and not ever again.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Even though Kiyoomi had explicitly forbidden himself to so much as <em> think </em> about Atsumu, it was inevitable that he did. Especially since he was right next door.</p><p>His mind was a dangerous place. It started with a small, trivial thought about how Atsumu was next door, but it quickly snowballed into wondering what Atsumu was doing, if he was doing his hand moisturising routine, if he was showering, if he was watching a show or a volleyball match— </p><p>No. <em> No</em>. He wasn’t going to let that train of thought continue. He <em> couldn’t</em>. He had to derail it immediately.</p><p>Pushing himself out of the chair he’d been sitting on previously, Kiyoomi stalked over to his luggage. It was time to do his nightly skincare routine. Then, he would put on a mask and meditate for 15 minutes or watch some random channel on the hotel TV. And after that he would play some background ASMR and go to sleep.</p><p>In his momentary fit of rage (<em>why </em> couldn’t he stop thinking about Atsumu?), Kiyoomi must have opened up his suitcase a little too forcefully, because the flap dividing the upper compartment from the lower fell down, and a shirt came along with it. Kiyoomi let out a little frustrated sound, only to stop short when he realised what shirt it was.</p><p>It was the shirt he was supposed to return months ago, the shirt he’d bought because Motoya had said— </p><p>Oh for fuck’s sake. So <em> this </em> was where it had been? Kiyoomi had thought he’d unpacked everything before, and he’d actually forgotten he had to return the shirt for a good 2 weeks, and when he’d remembered, he couldn’t find the shirt <em> anywhere </em> and had just given up on it, thinking it gone for good. Maybe even taken it as some sort of sign or favour from the heavens. </p><p>Kiyoomi glared at the shirt. He couldn’t even return it anymore, at this point. The return policy was for a total of one month’s time, and it had been several months. Maybe he could dump it off on Motoya. Let <em> him </em> be the one to figure out what to do with it, since he’d been the one to bully Kiyoomi into buying it in the first place. </p><p>Plan of action decided, Kiyoomi folded the shirt back up neatly, and tucked it into the bottom compartment of his suitcase. Then, he proceeded on with his earlier plan, as if the distraction had never happened.</p><p>Approximately 1 hour later, Kiyoomi was tucked snugly into bed, his phone on the bedside table, playing some background rain ASMR while Kiyoomi closed his eyes and tried his best not to think of Atsumu before he drifted off to sleep.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next morning, Kiyoomi deliberately waited until Bokuto came knocking at his door so that the chance of him getting stuck in the elevator alone with Atsumu was a big fat zero. Once everyone was ready and had congregated together, they headed down to take advantage of the free breakfast buffet that came with their rooms. Kiyoomi wasn’t very hungry so he just settled for some bread and fruit, and watched the others scarf down the food, occasionally reminding Bokuto to eat slower lest he choke.</p><p>After breakfast, the four of them stood in the hotel lobby, waiting for the van that was supposed to pick them up and bring them to the filming location.</p><p>Bokuto and Hinata were already full of energy even before they had breakfast, and now that they’d <em> had </em> breakfast, they seemed to be bursting with it Kiyoomi watched the two of them talk animatedly, Hinata’s hands flying out all around him as he told Bokuto a story and Bokuto listened, his eyes wide and sparkling, making all the right enthusiastic noises at the right times. Atsumu was also listening to Hinata’s story, but he was doing so with more detachment, only chiming in a few times when some detail caught his ear.</p><p>Kiyoomi himself was trying his best to listen to Hinata’s story as well, but he’d gotten distracted by Atsumu halfway in and by the time he’d managed to shake himself out of the daze, Hinata’s story had moved on so far ahead he wasn’t able to make any sense of it at all. So now here he was, pretending to have no interest in a story that actually seemed quite interesting, mentally shaking a fist at both his own mind and Atsumu for making him lose track of it.</p><p>Luckily, the van didn’t take much longer to arrive. The four of them piled into the van, with Hinata excitedly claiming the first seat, then Bokuto sliding in next to him. Which left Atsumu and Kiyoomi to be sitting together—another great addition to the already great day.</p><p>Kiyoomi took out some disinfectant wipes, but paused when Atsumu said, “I’ll help you,” and extended out his hand for one. He hesitated for a moment, caught off guard.</p><p>In the end, Kiyoomi passed him a wipe because two worked faster than one and he didn’t want to hold up the journey any longer than he already had, and they wiped down the seat together, Kiyoomi making sure not to miss out on disinfecting the seatbelt.</p><p>“Thanks,” Kiyoomi mumbled, little more than a whisper. </p><p>Atsumu merely smiled at him. “No problem, Omi-kun.”</p><p>The rest of the journey to the filming location was filled with mostly Hinata continuing on with his story from earlier (it really <em> was </em> a rather long and elaborate story, now that Kiyoomi thought about it). And if there was a little bit of tension remaining between Kiyoomi and Atsumu after that exchange, neither of them nor Bokuto or Hinata brought it up.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Once they arrived at the filming location, Kiyoomi was relieved to find that the players from Schweiden Adlers who would be doing the collaboration with them were already there.</p><p>This, of course, included Ushijima Wakatoshi, whom Kiyoomi was particularly delighted to see again, face-to-face, given their last meeting had been a few months back. Sure, they were rivals on the court, but off the court, they’d become closer, especially after Kiyoomi had graduated from college.</p><p>They also shared a few of the same brand endorsement deals, and this wasn’t their first time working together. It wasn’t even that surprising when the director told them that Kiyoomi and Wakatoshi would be specifically paired up to each other to play off the whole “lifelong rivals” label associated with them.</p><p>That label had come around as a result of both Kiyoomi and Wakatoshi mentioning each other as rivals in interviews, which had led a few dedicated fans to digging into their past history with each other as rivals on opposing school teams, all the way through from middle school to high school. Said fans had then compiled the entire thing, posted it on the Internet, and watched it go viral.</p><p>Their marketing manager said it was a blessing from the heavens that something like this, unproblematic and inspiring, had gone viral. Kiyoomi had been inclined to agree with her.</p><p>Today, though, there was another reason as to why Kiyoomi was so happy to see Wakatoshi and to be paired up with him, and like many other things in Kiyoomi’s life, it had to do with Atsumu.</p><p>Because if Wakatoshi was there, that meant Kiyoomi had less shots—if any at all—with Atsumu. In fact, he’d be able to practically just spend the entire day with Wakatoshi as work dictated. And talking to Wakatoshi would help with distracting his malfunctioning brain from Atsumu, so, really, it was just win after win all around.</p><p>As according to Kiyoomi’s predictions, the filming for the commercial went smoothly, and then they moved on to taking the promotional photos. The photographer beckoned Kiyoomi and Wakatoshi to stand closer, closer, until they were practically leaning against each other for the picture.</p><p>Not all of Kiyoomi’s shots involved Wakatoshi—he had a few on his own and a couple team ones with MSBY as a whole, then a group one with both teams together.</p><p>The blessing was that Kiyoomi didn’t have any shots alone with Atsumu, so he didn't have to endure the small, practically nonexistent gap between them as the photographer took about a million shots from a million different angles.</p><p>It was a tiring day, but everyone was happy with how everything had turned out. Kiyoomi was in especially good spirits and so decided to join the others in accepting the project team manager’s offer to take them all out for dinner and a few drinks when he would normally have declined.</p><p>(Maybe if Kiyoomi hadn’t been so focused on ignoring Atsumu’s existence, he might have noticed Atsumu’s glances in his direction, that lingered far longer than friendly glances did. Or he might have noticed Atsumu’s gaze darken when he and Wakatoshi were instructed to place their arms around each other’s shoulders.</p><p>But Kiyoomi was in excellent form today, and his work performance was exquisite. As such, he didn’t notice any of that.)</p><p>By the time everything was wrapped up, night had already fallen over Tokyo, the city lighting up under the dark sky. MSBY piled back into the van from earlier that had picked them up while the Schweiden Adlers players did the same with theirs.</p><p>Kiyoomi was still riding the high of a good day, so much so that he didn't even really mind it when he looked over at Atsumu in the van and noted how <em> good </em> he looked. The lighting was terrible but Atsumu still managed to look strikingly attractive, which Kiyoomi thought should be illegal.</p><p>The restaurant wasn't that far away from their original shooting location, which was good for Kiyoomi because if he'd spent one minute longer staring at Atsumu's face in the van, he might have done something he'd definitely regret later on.</p><p>At the restaurant, the manager succeeded in snagging a private room for them; and so they squeezed around the table that barely managed to fit all of them. Kiyoomi ended up right in between Atsumu and Wakatoshi, so he decided to sit a bit closer towards Wakatoshi.</p><p>(And, again, missed the odd look in Atsumu’s eyes.)</p><p>Even though it was of his own doing, Kiyoomi still felt a little monster stomping up and down in his gut as he watched Atsumu give his undivided attention to Hinata, who was on his other side. He didn’t even spare Kiyoomi a glance, which should be considered <em> good</em>, because that would assist Kiyoomi in getting over him, right?</p><p>Still, the little monster raged. Yelled about the injustice of it all and how Atsumu was a <em> liar liar liar nothing even went back to normal. </em>Kiyoomi told it to shut up but it refused to listen and continued to throw a tantrum like a 3-year-old who’d been denied a cookie.</p><p>Figuring out the only way to get it to stop was to cease paying attention to Atsumu completely (you can’t feel jealousy for something that you didn’t see, right?), Kiyoomi turned to Wakatoshi and engaged him in a conversation instead.</p><p>The rest of dinner passed by uneventfully. Everyone used the communal chopsticks for sharing dishes, and Kiyoomi's brain seemed to be giving him a break today. </p><p>After dinner came drinks, which Kiyoomi accepted when he, again, normally wouldn’t have. Kiyoomi was well aware of all the effects alcohol had on the body and that athletes should avoid it altogether, but a little cup of sake never hurt anyone. Once everyone’s cup was filled, they toasted each other and started to drink. </p><p>It had been a while since Kiyoomi had last drunk any alcohol—the last time had been at his college graduation. On Kiyoomi’s first sip, he carefully masked any signs of discontent as the sake burned a trail down the back of his throat. Thankfully, the following sips were better as Kiyoomi got used to the sensation.</p><p>Kiyoomi didn’t look at Atsumu, but he was abnormally hyperaware of Atsumu’s presence right next to him. He tried not to imagine Atsumu tilting his head back as he drank the remainder of his sake in one go. Tried not to think of how his throat muscles would contract. Tried not to think of a night, months ago, when he’d tasted that very same neck, left his own marks on it.</p><p>To stop his mind from thinking, Kiyoomi finished off the sake in his own cup, hoping it might serve to distract his mind from Atsumu. Bokuto offered to pour another round for everyone and when he got to Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi nodded and held out his cup, slightly tipped, towards Bokuto. Next to him, Wakatoshi had rejected the refill offer and was looking at Kiyoomi with a worried expression.</p><p>“Kiyoomi,” Wakatoshi called, a frown on his face, “you shouldn’t be drinking too much.”</p><p>Kiyoomi waved him off. “Don’t worry, Wakatoshi-kun.” He hiccuped. “I don’t intend to drink more after this one.”</p><p>It wasn’t a lie. Kiyoomi fully intended to stop after this cup of sake. He wasn’t a fool; he wasn’t going to risk his entire volleyball career for alcohol. This was just to help him stop thinking of Atsumu tonight.</p><p>As he made his way through his second cup of sake, Kiyoomi realised his head was getting heavier. Eventually, it got to the point where he leaned too far over to the side and winded up with his head against someone’s shoulder.</p><p>“Whoa, is Omi-san drunk already? He seemed like the kind of guy to have a high alcohol tolerance, though?”</p><p>Someone reached over and removed the cup from his hands. Kiyoomi would open his eyes to see who it was, but his head and eyelids were so <em> heavy</em>, and it felt so comfortable to just lay there, his head against someone's shoulder. Whose was it, he wondered. Wakatoshi’s? Or Atsumu’s?</p><p>"I think I should bring Kiyoomi back to his hotel first, if you'll kindly excuse us." That had to be Wakatoshi, and the voice had come from the direction Kiyoomi was leaning against. So that meant he was lying on Wakatoshi's shoulder, right? Good thing it wasn't Atsumu's.</p><p>"Actually, it'll be more convenient for me to bring Omi-kun back, since we stay at the same hotel and our rooms are right next to each other's," Atsumu spoke up, a strange tension to his words.</p><p>Wait, what? Why was Atsumu going out of his way to do something like that? Especially when Wakatoshi had already offered to bring Kiyoomi back? His tone even sounded like he was trying to pick a fight.</p><p>This strange development was enough for Kiyoomi to crack open his eyes and to slowly lift his head up from Wakatoshi's shoulder. </p><p>"Ah, Kiyoomi, you’re awake,” Wakatoshi said. “Would you like me to escort you back to your hotel room?”</p><p>Before Kiyoomi could reply, Atsumu interjected, “As I mentioned previously, it would be more practical for me to do so, Ushijima-san.”</p><p>Kiyoomi felt that his throat was rather dry. “I—” he was cut off by a cough. </p><p>Atsumu got up to pour some water into a glass, which he handed to Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi took it and gulped it down. “Thanks, Atsumu.”</p><p>Atsumu flashed him a grin. “My pleasure, Omi-kun.”</p><p>Kiyoomi turned to Wakatoshi. “Thank you for offering to send me back, Wakatoshi-kun,” he began in an apologetic tone, “but it would be out of your way and I couldn’t possibly trouble you to do so.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, Kiyoomi,” Wakatoshi said, as serious as ever. “Nothing is too much trouble when it comes to you.”</p><p>What did that mean? Kiyoomi felt like his head was going to explode. He managed a weak smile at Wakatoshi. “It’s alright, Wakatoshi-kun. Atsumu and I will be leaving first, then.”</p><p>They bid goodbye to the others, thanked the manager for dinner and drinks, then Atsumu wrapped an arm around Kiyoomi’s shoulders to steady him as they walked out. Doing so put the both of them in such close proximity to each other, much closer than they’d been for <em> months</em>, that Kiyoomi felt himself blushing.</p><p>Or maybe that was the alcohol talking. Kiyoomi hoped it was the alcohol talking.</p><p>Once they were outside, the cool breeze sobered Kiyoomi up a little, enough for him to stand up by himself, so he shrugged off Atsumu’s arm and pretended the momentary surprise on Atsumu’s face didn’t make his heart ache. </p><p>Atsumu called a taxi with his phone and Kiyoomi mentioned that he’d pay Atsumu back his share of the taxi fare. Upon hearing this, Atsumu’s expression became indiscernible once again. </p><p>“You don’t have to do that,” Atsumu said finally, after a beat of silence had passed between them.</p><p>Kiyoomi furrowed his eyebrows together. As far as he knew, they weren’t the sort of friends who paid for the other’s share. Still, he didn’t particularly feel like arguing over this. Not right now, at least. </p><p>So he let it slide, and the two of them stood there, a world’s distance encompassed within the 10 centimetres between their shoulders.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The taxi ride was completely silent all the way back to the hotel. Kiyoomi stared out of the window, watching the nightlife of Tokyo pass by in blurs, and tried not to think of Atsumu, an empty seat between them, close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss.</p><p>At this point, Kiyoomi was too tired to fight himself for those thoughts. So he let himself think them and hoped that, come morning, it wouldn’t put him all the way back at square one.</p><p>When they arrived at the hotel, Atsumu paid the driver. Kiyoomi made a mental note to pay him back in the morning. He would set a reminder for it later, when he got back to his room.</p><p>The elevator ride was unbearably silent. They were the only two people in the elevator, and Kiyoomi was already thinking about what he would do when he reached the safe confines of his room so he wouldn’t think about Atsumu. First would be washing his hands. Then, shower. Maybe he’d skip the skincare routine tonight, if he was too tired after the shower.</p><p>Then, Atsumu broke the silence. “Did you have a good time with Ushijima today?”</p><p>Kiyoomi frowned. There it was again, the strange tone in Atsumu’s voice from earlier. He replied, cautiously, “Yeah, I did,” because it was the truth.</p><p>Atsumu’s eyes darkened. “What, you like him?”</p><p>Kiyoomi snorted. Okay, this was ridiculous. And <em> rich </em> too, coming from Atsumu, who’d spent the whole dinner only talking to Hinata, not even sparing a glance towards Kiyoomi. It wasn’t like Atsumu had tried talking to Kiyoomi and Kiyoomi had outright ignored him.</p><p>“What, you jealous?” It slipped out before Kiyoomi could stop it, but Kiyoomi found himself not regretting it one bit. </p><p>Atsumu stared at him heatedly. “And if I am?” he asked, voice a little rough.</p><p>Kiyoomi returned his stare for a moment, feeling like his heart was about to beat out of his chest with how fast it was racing. Then, before he knew it, he’d surged over, grabbed Atsumu by the collar of the shirt, and kissed him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi knew he shouldn’t be doing this.</p><p>This being Atsumu’s hand tangled in Kiyoomi’s curls, Kiyoomi’s arms hooked over Atsumu’s shoulders to draw him in closer, their mouths and breaths hot against each other. This being their bodies pressed flush together, Atsumu bent on kissing the life out of Kiyoomi while his other hand slipped down to pull Kiyoomi closer by his waist.</p><p>This being Kiyoomi, pink-cheeked and panting when they drew back for air, asking, “My room?”</p><p>This being Atsumu, equally a mess, looking at Kiyoomi with an indecipherable look in his eyes, nodding. </p><p>This shouldn’t be happening, but it was. </p><p>Kiyoomi fumbled with his hotel key card a little, his hands shaky. When he finally managed to slot it in right and open the door, Atsumu had already decided he couldn’t wait any longer and pressed forward to catch Kiyoomi’s lips in another heated kiss.</p><p>Somehow, they managed to get into Kiyoomi’s room and closed the door behind them before their bodies engaged in yet another dance, all the way towards the bed. </p><p>As Kiyoomi was pushed to sit on the bed, he drew back from Atsumu and panted out, “Wait.”</p><p>Atsumu halted all movement immediately. “Do you want to stop?” he asked.</p><p>Kiyoomi looked at him like he was mad. “No,” he said, “but I— we should shower first.”</p><p>“Oh,” Atsumu replied. “Okay.”</p><p>So Kiyoomi went into the shower first, sighing in contentment as the hot water washed over him. His hands were still shaking slightly as he cleaned himself thoroughly. As he did so, he wondered if Atsumu would change his mind if he took too long to shower.</p><p>And he wondered if he did, if that would be for better or worse.</p><p>When he came out of the shower, he found Atsumu standing in the middle of the room awkwardly. Kiyoomi looked at him incredulously. </p><p>“Have you just been standing there the whole time?”</p><p>Atsumu looked a little sheepish and his hand came up to scratch the back of his neck. “Didn’t wanna dirty your room. And I thought that if I left to my room, you’d think I changed my mind.”</p><p>There he went again, being considerate. Kiyoomi shook his head, as if that might rid him of any such thoughts. “The shower’s yours,” he managed to say evenly.</p><p>While Atsumu headed into the shower, Kiyoomi decided he would implement sensibility in other parts of his life if he couldn’t do so with Atsumu and opened up the complimentary water provided by the hotel. It was advised to drink water when you drank alcohol, and Kiyoomi was thirsty anyway.</p><p>By this point, the alcohol haze had lifted from his head for him to become aware of what he was doing. And Kiyoomi was questioning himself, <em> what </em> exactly was he doing? He had about a million reasons to not continue on with this, and Atsumu would understand and leave if Kiyoomi just asked him to.</p><p>And Kiyoomi thought about doing just that.</p><p>Then, Atsumu came out of the shower, a towel low on his hips, his skin flushed, looking absolutely delectable and unbelievably sexy, like all of Kiyoomi’s wet dreams in one. </p><p>“You still wanna do this?” he asked, his gaze burning a hole into Kiyoomi.</p><p>Kiyoomi returned the look, unflinching. “Yes.”</p><p>So Atsumu pressed him into the sheets, and Kiyoomi’s legs fell open like a welcome gift, only to wrap around Atsumu’s waist and drag him in closer. Atsumu’s mouth was hot and wet on his, and as he moved on downwards, Kiyoomi arched his neck to give him better access. </p><p>A moan escaped Kiyoomi as Atsumu started sucking a mark on his neck. When Atsumu pulled back, there was dark satisfaction in his eyes as he muttered lowly, “That’ll show Ushijima.”</p><p>Kiyoomi couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you really— ah—” he was cut off momentarily as Atsumu leaned in to kiss him again. When he pulled back, Kiyoomi looked up at him, panting a little, and continued, “Are you really jealous of Wakatoshi-kun?”</p><p>Atsumu’s eyes narrowed at the mention of Wakatoshi’s name. “Don’t you think I’ve answered that question already, Omi-kun?” And then he was diving back in to leave another mark—this time on Kiyoomi’s chest.</p><p>“I— ah!” Kiyoomi stuffed a hand over his mouth when Atsumu rolled one of his nipples with his fingers, giving it a harsh pinch. “I want to hear you say it,” he barely managed to get out.</p><p>“You wanna hear me say that I’m jealous of Ushijima?” Atsumu drawled, even as he licked a stripe right across Kiyoomi’s chest, fingers tightening on Kiyoomi’s waist when Kiyoomi gave a little jerk. “Fine. I’m jealous of him.”</p><p>Then, he took one of Kiyoomi's nipples into his mouth, and Kiyoomi let out a surprised shout. He slapped his hand back over his mouth—when had he moved it away?—and tried his best to contain his moans.</p><p>Atsumu didn't like that. He drew back and pulled Kiyoomi's hand away from his mouth, pinning it to the side. "Don't cover up your moans, Omi-kun, I want to hear them."</p><p>That made all the blood in Kiyoomi's body rush to his dick. He was already hard, and they'd barely just started. The only consolation was that he could feel Atsumu's dick against his, and he was just as hard as Kiyoomi.</p><p>"Ah!" Kiyoomi startled when Atsumu returned his mouth to his chest, this time deciding to pay a little attention to the other nipple he'd neglected by pinching and rolling it with his other hand. </p><p>Even as pleasure built up, Kiyoomi found that there was still a little thought, a little question nagging on his mind. If he didn’t get it out, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy this at all.</p><p>So he blurted out, “But why are you jealous of Wakatoshi-kun?”</p><p>The moment Wakatoshi’s name left Kiyoomi’s lips again, Atsumu stopped what he was doing and pulled back from Kiyoomi’s body. Kiyoomi bit down on his lower lip but he couldn’t completely stop the whine from escaping.</p><p>“Omi-kun, don’t you know it’s bad manners to be calling someone else’s name when you’re in bed with another person?” Atsumu asked. His words had a teasing lilt to them but Kiyoomi could tell there was some bitterness in them, too.</p><p>“That doesn’t answer the question,” Kiyoomi pointed out. His heart was, once again, racing at a speed that was much too fast. </p><p>“Do I need to spell it out for you?” Atsumu sighed. “I’m jealous of him because I like you, Kiyoomi.”</p><p>Everything came to a halt. Kiyoomi’s mind, his heart—he even stopped breathing for a good 5 seconds as the revelation shattered everything he’d thought as truth and reality.</p><p>Atsumu— Atsumu liked <em> him</em>? Kiyoomi? And— </p><p>“That’s the first time you’ve ever called me by that,” Kiyoomi muttered dazedly.</p><p>Atsumu just smiled at him bitterly. “I know you don’t feel the same way but—”</p><p>Hold on a fucking minute. What did Atsumu just say? Did he not know that Kiyoomi had been in love with him all this damn time? Did he not have even the slightest inkling that Kiyoomi had been pining over him and trying to get over him and pining over him?</p><p>The thought of it, the <em> realisation </em> made Kiyoomi let out a startled laugh. “Atsumu,” Kiyoomi began slowly, “I’ve been in love with you for a good year or so.”</p><p>Atsumu’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait then—” he cut himself off as he seemed to realise something.</p><p>“Yes, even before we fucked for the first time,” Kiyoomi confirmed, unable to stop the smile tugging at his lips. </p><p>The whole thing was ridiculous. It was the universe’s idea of a joke—some tragic attempt at comedy, or some comedic attempt at tragedy, Kiyoomi didn’t know. </p><p>What Kiyoomi did know was that both he and Atsumu were still half-hard, and that he didn’t leave things unfinished.</p><p>So he pulled Atsumu back down and crashed their lips together, then murmured, against Atsumu’s mouth, “Sex now, talk later.”</p><p>And Atsumu was more than happy to oblige.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“So, are we dating now?” Atsumu asked after, when they were lying in bed and cuddling, with Atsumu spooning Kiyoomi against his chest.</p><p>Kiyoomi hummed a little in response, sleepy and tired and feeling like he would melt right through the mattress if he could. “I guess so. If you want to.”</p><p>“Of course I want to, Omi-kun,” Atsumu said, leaning down to press a kiss against Kiyoomi’s head. “The question is, do <em> you </em> want to?”</p><p>That made Kiyoomi pull back from Atsumu’s chest so he could look Atsumu right in the eye as he said, “I’ve only been thinking about it for the past year or so, Atsumu.” Then, he softened, and leaned in to kiss Atsumu, just because he could. “Yes, of course I want to date you, you idiot.”</p><p>Atsumu chased after his lips when they separated, and Kiyoomi let him. "Then we're boyfriends now, hm?"</p><p>Kiyoomi nodded. "Boyfriends," he confirmed.</p><p>"Think the others will be surprised?"</p><p>"Maybe. You want to tell them?"</p><p>"Of course! But only if you're okay with it, I mean."</p><p>"Mm. I'm more than okay with it."</p><p>Kiyoomi yawned, then snuggled back into Atsumu's chest. This was <em> his </em> spot now, he decided. And he was going to spend however long he wanted lying on it.</p><p>"Goodnight, Atsumu."</p><p>"Goodnight, Omi-omi."</p><p>Then it was lights out, and a blissful sleep.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(and so they dated and fucked and lived happily ever after.)</p><p>this fic has pulled so much out of me that i wasn't ready to give tbh but i'm glad i pushed on and finished it off!</p><p>you can read chapter 1 as a standalone if you just want angst but if you're reading this, thank you for staying with me all the way through! (and if you're new here, thank you for choosing to read it all!)</p><p>pls forgive any typos, inconsistencies in plot or writing style, and other mistakes.</p><p>as always, kudos and comments are much loved!</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://twitter.com/voIacious">twitter</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.me/volacious">my curiouscat</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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